


No Excuses

by Lydia_Eve



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 07:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Eve/pseuds/Lydia_Eve
Summary: Draco has trouble denying what he wants.





	No Excuses

It only happened because Blaise was late.

Potter was somehow in the bar, brooding as usual. It had been years, but something made Draco throw caution to the wind and bring his djinn and tonics over to Potter’s table.

It was worth seeing Potter’s eyes go from impassive to surprised in a moment.

“Hey,” said Draco. Now that he was here, he was suddenly convinced it had been a mistake.

“I thought you moved to Denmark,” was Potter’s reply.

Denmark had been years in the past, but Draco was so surprised Potter knew that that he failed to say anything else for a moment.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” asked Potter.

“I –”

Blaise took that moment to arrive, arms encircling Draco and lips planting a kiss on Draco’s neck.

“Don’t even think about it, Potter,” Blaise said with a smile in his voice.

“I wasn’t –” Potter started.

“No, you just happen to run into the man who’s been obsessed with you for years in a gay bar and it’s totally innocent,” said Blaise.

“Oh my God, Zabini,” Draco snapped, not sure what Blaise was trying to do.

“I’m only teasing,” Blaise said, still smiling, but with hard eyes.

Potter watched them with a composure Draco didn’t remember him having as kids. Figures Draco could feel his face burning and Potter was back to his dark stare all over again.

“Whatever,” said Draco, wrenching away from Blaise and this horrible situation. “Later, Potter.”

He was back at home ignoring Blaise’s owls before he thought to wonder what Potter was doing in a gay bar.

~

It only happened because it was raining.

Draco had only gone to the Hogwarts reunion for the Lost Class – those who weren’t able to graduate because of the war – because his mother insisted enough time had passed for the Malfoys to begin making their way into society again. Obviously Lucius would remain at home, but Draco reluctantly took his mother’s arm and allowed her to apparate them to Hogsmeade.

The affair itself was hideous. Draco took one step into the great hall before he realized he could never go back in that room again.

Narcissa had shot him a terrible look as she swept past him for the Headmistress’s speech. 

He stumbled through the halls, familiar and foreign at the same time, pushing forward to an exit as fast as he could. He stumbled out into the courtyard and into the chilly August rain.

He was soaked almost instantly, and chilled to the bone, but the downpour stopped his near-panic attack, and he heaved breaths of air, leaning against the stone wall, listening to the roar of rain around him.

Some time later – he was never sure how long – another figure stumbled out into the courtyard with him. Draco was too startled to move as Potter wheeled around and saw him.

Their eyes locked through the sheets of rain. Potter was breathing heavily, eyes blazing, looking like he had just defeated the Dark Lord all over again.

“Go back, Potter,” Draco told him, raising his voice over the rain. “You deserve today,” he said, sure about that if nothing else.

Potter watched him for a moment like he hadn’t even heard Draco speak. After a moment, he turned away, but his lips moved as he did so, and his words were lost in the downpour.

Draco peeled himself off the ice-cold wall and leaned a little closer to Potter. “What was that?”

Potter looked back at him, still looking like the avenging angel who once pulled Draco onto a broom and out of the fires of hell. Draco wondered for a crazy moment if Potter had caused the rain to wash away the last of the smoldering embers of the curses that had struck them all.

“I said don’t I deserve anything else?” Potter said, not looking like he was really asking. Draco watched him a moment more and Potter’s eyes fell. “Don’t I deserve something I want?”

It was more because Draco couldn’t stand to see Potter look dejected and broken that he did it. Draco took another step and took Potter’s chin in his fingers like Draco had a death wish.

Potter didn’t kill him, but his eyes turned wary in an instant. Still, Draco wasn’t missing the opportunity to help Potter, a crazy life debt that could not be repaid by a near-drowning conversation, but Draco was still going to try.

“There’s nothing you don’t deserve,” Draco told him.

Potter lifted his head and pushed his lips against Draco.

Draco’s body responded instantly, a rush of heat tearing through his core as though Potter had internalized the fiendfyre that day instead. When Potter’s mouth opened, Draco thought Potter’s tongue might burn him.

“Potter,” Draco breathed through the kiss, but the last thing he wanted was for Potter to stop.

When Potter did, it was only to lean his forehead against Draco’s. Their breaths came out together. Somehow Potter’s fists had Draco’s robes, and Draco had his hands in Potter’s soaking hair.

“Kiss me again,” Draco whispered, angling their faces together.

Potter did, but he pulled back almost immediately after, stepping back and untangling himself from Draco.

“I don’t deserve another person,” Potter said, low. “You can’t just offer yourself as a _gift_. That’s not how–”

“Oh, shut up, Potter,” said Draco, closing his eyes.

Potter, who never did a single thing Draco wanted, did not. “I just meant–”

“I have to go,” said Draco, who really did need to get out of there.

The walk back to the disapparation zones outside the gates was long and colder than he’d ever felt. Although even days after, he could still feel the heat of Potter’s lips on his.

~

It happened because Draco was a coward – always had been – but for once he wanted to see what it was like to be something else.

Everyone knew where Harry Potter lived; half the time there was press camped out across the street, and unfortunately today was no different.

Draco got surprisingly close to the door before they noticed him, but noticed him they did. Soon bulbs were flashing, and the crack of new reporters apparating to the spot filled the air. He even heard the sizzling crack of wizards apparating from outside the country.

“Draco, can you tell us why–”

“Mr. Malfoy, do you have business with the Boy who Lived–”

“Draco, love, can you smile for the camera–”

Draco felt his shoulders raise against the barrage of questions at his back as though he could fend them off. He took a breath, then leaned heavily against the bell.

Potter’s blinking face appeared as the door opened. He was wearing a Muggle t-shirt and soft-looking jeans. Draco hadn’t thought about it a week ago at Hogwarts, but Harry Potter’s face in the faint sunlight of the morning was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Blaise was right: Draco had been obsessed for years. But that didn’t mean he knew Potter, or _loved_ Potter. He just thought about the Potter he thought he knew, who was probably actually pretty far off from the actual person.

“Hey,” said Potter cautiously.

Draco smiled back, and before he lost his nerve entirely, he produced a long-stemmed fire rose. The dark red petals were as simple as any other rose, but the silken surface of the petals smoldered and shimmered beneath the surface, causing a faint glow. The flower was breathtaking; it was the only thing Draco could think of as an offering to the man before him.

After an agonizing pause, Potter reached forward and took the offered rose. Cameras flashed.

“Malfoy–”

“You’re right,” Draco said abruptly, even though that’s not quite what he’d intended to say at all. “I do owe you. You didn’t have to help me. And I would do anything to repay what you’ve given me.”

Potter’s eyes, which had so far been interested, slammed into fury in an instant. “I told you,” he began.

“You did,” said Draco, “but that’s not why I’m here. I was right, too: you do deserve the world. You deserve–” Draco exhaled, frustrated. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to pretend like his biggest problem was the stupid amount of money he’d spent on the rose and his embarrassment covering tomorrow’s papers. He thought of a thousand reasons to walk away right then.

“I don’t deserve to be happy,” Draco said, “not like you do.”

Potter’s anger had subsided, but Draco couldn’t quite discern the expression on Potter’s face now. Maybe because he couldn’t quite meet Potter’s eyes.

“That’s what you came here to tell me?” Potter asked.

“No,” said Draco, taking another breath. Just this once. Just this once don’t be a coward. “I came here to tell you that I want to be anyway.”

Draco could only stare at Potter’s lips now.

“And you think I can help you with that…” said Potter slowly. “Being happy, I mean.”

Draco nodded.

Potter seemed to remember the rose in his hand and looked down at it as though seeing it for the first time.

“It’s not about what we deserve, Malfoy – Draco,” Potter corrected, drawing Draco’s eyes back to his at once. “It’s not even about what we want.”

“Yeah?” asked Draco, not sure where Potter was going with this, but blown away by his name in Potter’s mouth.

Potter’s mouth. Which curved into a smile – a real one. Not one Draco had seen directed at him before.

“It’s our choices,” said Potter, and leaned in.

Draco could only freeze as Potter pressed the softest kiss to his lips. His eyes closed, but he could _feel_ Potter’s smile in the kiss. It was mesmerizing. He didn’t even notice the press having a collective heart attack behind him.

All too soon, Potter pulled away, but his smile lingered. “Do you want to come inside for some tea?” Potter asked.

Draco nodded. He took Potter’s offered hand and stepped into the house, away from the press and the past, away from the excuses.


End file.
